


Knowing

by Luthien



Series: An Education [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has a question for Rumpelstiltskin when he returns from Neverland.</p>
<p>Episode tag for 3x10 - The New Neverland. A follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1073356">Learning</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> This is an episode tag for 3x10 and includes some events and dialogue taken directly from the episode. Obviously, these aren't mine.

The _Jolly Roger_ breaks through the clouds, and there's Storybrooke, spread out beneath them. Rumpelstiltskin grabs hold of the manrope and hangs on for dear life as the ship hurtles towards the water. 

Beside him, Bae grins, and grips his arm. "Ready?" he asks.

"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin replies. It's strange how easy it is to answer with the simple truth rather than some smart, mocking remark when his boy looks at him like that.

From the raised-eyebrow look that Miss Swan sends his way over Bae's shoulder, it seems she's thinking something very similar.

"Land ho!" shouts Hook from his place behind the ship's wheel. "Oh, and it might be a good idea to brace for impact!"

Rumpelstiltskin clutches the rope tight and his son tighter and turns his face earthwards, looking down at the crowd of people gathering at the dock. Is she there? Probably not. They're arriving with all but no warning, and what are the odds of her being down near the water at this exact moment? And yet he cranes his neck to try to keep looking over the side as the ship pitches sharply and the docks swing out of view.

They land rather more gently than they had when they arrived in the waters off Neverland. Perhaps Hook is getting better with practice, though probably most of it comes down to blind luck rather than skill.

Henry and his mother are first along the gangway and out into the arms of those who have missed them. They're followed by Henry's grandparents, his other mother, and, close behind her, Rumpelstiltskin himself, otherwise known as Henry's other grandfather. Very few of the gathering throng will be pleased to see him, he's sure, but he doesn't care. There's only one face he wants to look down and see.

She's there. He'd spot her immediately even in the depths of the crowd, even wearing the most nondescript clothes imaginable. But there she is, right at the front of the crowd, right in front of him, smiling up at him, bright red jacket standing out like a single vibrant poppy in a garden of withered flowers. He smiles back at her. No force in this land or any other could stop that smile from coming to his lips right now.

He doesn't remember walking down the gangway. He doesn't think he runs, because Rumpelstiltskin never runs, any more than Mr Gold does, but he could be wrong. He doesn't care.

Then Belle's in his arms, warm and real and everything that her Neverland shadow self wasn't. He closes his eyes for a second and presses his face against her hair, breathing in the faint floral scent of her shampoo. The shadow's illusion had never smelled like that. It had never smelled like anything. 

So maybe he isn't dreaming, then.

Her arms come up around his neck and he pulls her close in a tight hug. She draws back and she's smiling again as she looks him in the eyes. She looks like she can't stop smiling and he wonders again if this is a dream. If it is, he hopes he never wakes up. He looks at her, just looks at her. His eyes will never drink their fill of the sight of her, incandescent with happiness and pride in him. He wants to kiss her, but while this is the time, it's most definitely not the place. 

"I told you I'd see you again," Belle says.

"That's the last time I don't listen to you," Rumpelstiltskin agrees with a rueful smile.

"Hey!" calls Bae, and then he's hurrying over to join them.

"Hey," Belle says, turning her smile on him. "Welcome back."

She squeezes Bae's arm, and he responds with a smile of his own and a quiet, "Thank you." He turns to Rumpelstiltskin. "I found this below deck," he says, and holds up Mr Gold's ebony cane. "Thought you might need it."

Rumpelstiltskin takes the cane, his companion for so many years. He doesn't need it any more, in every sense save one. "Thank you, Bae, I do," he says. "As a reminder of the man I was, and shall no longer be."

Bae smiles at him. So many smiles for him and from him. Far, far more than Rumpelstiltskin ever allowed himself to imagine. He reaches for his boy just as Bae reaches for him and Belle insinuates herself even closer on his other side. Rumpelstiltskin finds himself the centre point of a three-way hug. The two people he loves most in this or any other world are in his arms, beaming their approval and affection. It doesn't get any better than this. Rumpelstiltskin knows that, as his smile answers theirs. A part of him feels that if he were to die now, right this moment, he'd die happy.

The rest of him doesn't feel that way, though. Just the thought of Belle's unhappiness if he were to be taken from her is enough to clamp what feels like a cold, hard fist around his heart. And as for Bae… Rumpelstiltskin has caused those he loves more than enough pain already. He doesn't intend to add to the tally if it's in any way within his considerable power to stop it.

"Oh, hey," Bae says as the embrace comes to an end, his attention caught by something on the far side of the crowd. "There's someone over there, some people I need to say hi to."

"See you later, then," Belle says, giving him a gentle push and a playful smile. It's almost as though she's known Bae for years. Rumpelstiltskin supposes that in a way she has.

"Later," says Bae as Rumpelstiltskin lifts a hand in farewell.

Bae disappears into the crowd.

It's only when Belle's hold on his arm grows tighter that Rumpelstiltskin realises that he's just let out a long sigh.

"Let's go home," Belle suggests, still smiling as she tugs him gently towards the road. The fact that it's in the opposite direction from the one in which Baelfire just went does not escape Rumpelstiltskin's notice. He doesn't resist her, but after a few steps he stops, and places a gentle hand on her wrist. Belle stops as well, and looks at him questioningly.

"Home sounds good, better than good," he assures her. "But first I need to stop by the shop." 

"The shop it is," she says, placing her other hand over his and looks up into his eyes.

It takes Rumpelstiltskin a moment to remember that he'll need to start walking if they wish to get to the shop at all. Belle slips both arms back through his, and they pick their way around the edge of the crowd. They've barely taken half a dozen steps before they come face to face with Prince Charming and Miss Swan.

Of course they do.

"Still got Pandora's box safe?" Charming asks.

"Of course," Rumpelstiltskin replies, producing it from his pocket with a flourish, while resisting the temptation to reply that no, the whereabouts of the box somehow slipped his mind and now it's lost on the ship somewhere.

"So what about that shadow?" Charming continues, looking up at the black sail as it billows in the breeze.

"Don't worry, it's trapped. Just as it was in the candle," Rumpelstiltskin says as they stroll along the dock towards the place where Regina stands all alone. "The only person that can free it is safely in here," he adds, holding up the box and giving it a shake that he hopes sends Pan rattling around inside.

"You're completely sure about that?" Miss Swan asks, clearly taking lessons from her father in the art of asking the bleeding obvious.

"Of course," Rumpelstiltskin says.

"If there's one thing my father knows, it's magic," Bae tells her as he joins the group. He smiles at Rumpelstiltskin, and suddenly it doesn't matter how many pointless questions he has to deal with.

"It pains me to admit it, but he's right, at least up to a point," Regina puts in.

"I taught you," Rumpelstiltskin points out.

"Don't even think about ending that sentence with 'everything you know'," Regina warns.

"And yet the fact remains, I taught you," Rumpelstiltskin says, lips quirking into a self-satisfied little smirk that he knows will irritate Regina beyond belief.

"Rumple," Belle murmurs, and her hold on his arm tightens. The smirk dies on his lips even as Miss Swan looks sharply from Rumpelstiltskin to Regina and back, as though a long-standing question has just been answered.

"Hey, Mom! Dad!" Henry's voice breaks in, and all of them turn as one to see what has made the boy call out so urgently. "What about Felix? He's still free."

Charming deals with the problem in short order, hauling Felix off to the lock-up. Rumpelstiltskin will admit, at least to himself, that the prince does have his uses. Occasionally. 

"I believe we were on our way back to the shop?" Rumpelstiltskin says, turning to Belle and offering her his arm.

"We're coming with you." This time Miss Swan is not asking but telling him. Rumpelstiltskin isn't sure which he likes least. "I want to be there to see that box get locked away where no one else can get at it."

Behind her, Bae and Regina nod their agreement – so when Belle and Rumpelstiltskin finally arrive outside Mr Gold's shop, they've very far from alone together. 

Rumpelstiltskin fits the key in the lock. It's a strange thing to cross the threshold of this place after going away expecting never to see it again. Stranger still to realise that he took the key with him and kept it on him the whole time he was in Neverland, despite leaving the shop - not to mention the only duplicate key – under Belle's guardianship supposedly forever.

Perhaps, deep down, he had known that he would be back, just as Belle had been certain that she would see him again.

The whole group follows him through to the back room, and gather around in a loose semi-circle to watch as Rumpelstiltskin passes his hand over an innocuous-seeming section of floor. His fingers tingle as his magic does its work, and the purple smoke disperses to reveal a cavity in the floor.

"Once I seal the box in here, no one can break the spell but me," Rumpelstiltskin says, kneeling to lower Pandora's box into the cavity and replace the cover. He matches his words, sealing the box under the floor as though the opening in the floorboards had never been, his magic a bright, shimmering gold as he infuses the seal with his power.

"And you're not going to do that," Henry says. It's almost a question.

"Believe me, I want Pan trapped just as much as you."

"Don't worry, Henry," Miss Swan says.

"He's not getting out of there," Bae assures him.

"We won't let anything happen to you again. I promise," Regina adds.

"She's right," Rumpelstiltskin says, getting to his feet. "You needn't worry. As long as I'm alive, that boy'll never see the light of day." He glances at Belle, aware as soon as he says it that she won't appreciate the phrasing of that last sentence. "And I don't intend for that state of affairs to change," he adds, but he's speaking to Belle now. Her expression is sombre, befitting the serious subject under discussion, but she tries to smile. She doesn't quite manage it. Her sad little attempt at a smile is a stark contrast to the way she'd looked the whole time they'd been down at the dock.

"Come on, kid. We'd better get going. If I know Granny, we've got a welcome home party to get ready for," Miss Swan says briskly, sparing a quick nod of thanks for Rumpelstiltskin as she hustles Henry out of the room. 

Regina follows close behind them, but Bae lingers.

Rumpelstiltskin waits, almost afraid to break the silence. Belle's hand is a welcome, reassuring pressure against his arm. Her love and constant support is more, far more, than he deserves.

"So, will we see you at Granny's later?" Bae asks, and bites his lip, looking suddenly as uncertain as Rumpelstiltskin feels.

"Perhaps," says Rumpelstiltskin. "Though I doubt my presence would add much to most people's enjoyment of the proceedings. As it happens, I was thinking of spending a quiet evening in, after so much recent unlooked-for and unwelcome adventure, but maybe-"

"No, no. It's okay," Bae says, holding up a hand. "I get it. I don't blame you for wanting a quiet night at home." He glances briefly at Belle and then back at Rumpelstiltskin, who suddenly develops an urgent need to stare at the floor for a moment. "I get it," Bae says again. "Maybe… maybe we'll run into each other in town tomorrow."

"I'd like that," Rumpelstiltskin says, and Bae smiles.

They hug, briefly. It's a relief not to have to say anything more for the moment. The hug says more than enough.

"I'd better go catch them up," Bae says as they both step back. 

"Goodbye, son," Rumpelstiltskin says, just as Belle says, "See you soon."

"Yeah," Bae says, still with the hint of a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth, and then he turns and hurries out the door.

It's easier to watch him walk away this time.

Belle moves closer, and slips her hand into his. "I'm glad you two found each other again," she says, and this time her smile is all that it should be, all that it should ever be.

"So am I," he says. "And I'm glad you were right."

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't make a conscious decision to kiss her right then, but it happens as easily as breathing, their lips coming together between one breath and the next. It's a soft, unhurried thing, this kiss, a slow, patient exploration, seeking and finding each other again at their leisure, now that they have the luxury of time. His hands come up to cup Belle's face and she sighs into the kiss, shifting against him to press closer. He strokes a line along her neck with the pad of his thumb, down and up and up and down, all slow, firm intent, and she shivers and tenses, arching into his touch, demanding more.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles into the kiss – for all of three seconds until Belle's hands slip under his coattails to knead his arse, and the smile turns into a gasp. He opens his eyes to find mischief dancing in hers.

He runs his thumb up along her neck once more until it presses up under her chin, tilting her head back. She gazes up at him, her merriment fading to something else, something more serious and wholly for him, and it's more than he can bear to keep looking at her.

"I missed you," he whispers as he presses a kiss against her cheekbone. "Almost more than I could stand." He presses another kiss to her temple, and another at the soft, sensitive spot behind her jaw.

Belle lets out a shuddering breath. "I missed you, too. So much," she says. She leans up to find his neck with her mouth in turn, but the stiff ruffled collar of his coat gets in her way, and she huffs in annoyance.

"I should get out of this. These really aren't the clothes for Storybrooke, in any case," he says, stepping back from her and gesturing at his outfit as a whole. It's a moment before Belle's hands slip their hold on him and she lets her arms fall to her sides. 

"Help me?" Rumpelstiltskin says. The coat is designed for effect rather than comfort or convenience, and it's a devil of a job getting it off without the assistance of magic, or at least a helping hand. Right now, Rumpelstiltskin would far rather the helping hand.

"Of course," Belle says with a smile, that beautiful smile that he never tires of seeing directed at him. 

She moves behind him and he feels her hands on his shoulders. He shrugs his shoulders free of the coat and Belle eases it up and off. He turns to face her as she folds the coat over one arm and goes to set it down on the end of the bed.

Rumpelstiltskin feels strangely exposed, standing before her in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. It's not as if she hasn't seen him like this before, or wearing considerably less, but he's got used to the coat in the long days away from Storybrooke. His costumes are like armour against a hostile world, and the longer he goes without respite the more difficult it is to let down all of his personal defences and show himself fully.

"Can I help with the rest?" Belle asks, and that glint of mischief is back in her eyes. And, really, if he didn't love her already, he'd certainly fall in love with her now. She knows how to make any situation right, even when she doesn't seem to know – How could she know? – that there's anything in need of fixing.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't answer her directly, but instead simply smiles and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. He opens his arms with hands outstretched, palms up in silent invitation, and cocks an eyebrow at her.

Belle's mischievous look turns into a full-fledged grin. She crosses the room to stand before him, so close that her legs brush against the tops of his boots. She just has time to shrug out of the bright red jacket and toss it onto the end of the bed on top of his coat before his arms come around her.

"Hey!" Belle exclaims, grabbing hold of his shoulder to keep her balance.

"Hmmn?" says Rumpelstiltskin, as though distracted. It isn't all that far from the truth. He can see almost nothing but her – not that he's trying very hard to look at anything else – and he's all too aware that his arms are wrapped around her shapely, black-clad thighs. He closes the tiny gap between them and rubs his cheek against her top. His stubble catches against the soft fabric and it moves with him, pulling free from the waist of her skirt.

"I thought I was supposed to be helping _you_ undress," Belle says, clearly trying to scold, but there's laughter in her voice.

Rumpelstiltskin reluctantly releases his hold on Belle and leans back to look up at her. "I'm not stopping you. Feel free to help out," he says, as innocently as he can – which is to say, not very – and waits to see what she'll do. They both know that he's just issued a challenge.

Belle takes a step back so that she can look him up and down, so slowly and deliberately that he can feel her gaze on every inch of him, even covered as he is from neck to toe. He's feeling distinctly warmer by the time Belle steps forward again.

"I think we'd better start with your waistcoat," she decides. She sits down on the bed beside him and, to his slight surprise, kicks off her shoes. He realises why moments later when she draws her legs up onto the bed and is suddenly kneeling by his side. Rumpelstiltskin remains perfectly still as Belle reaches across and, after a few second's exploration with her fingers, she discovers the trick of it and releases the first of the ornate gryphon clasps that secure his waistcoat. "There," she says. "That wasn't so hard."

Her left hand drifts down, apparently absently, to rest lightly on his leather-covered thigh as her right hand deals with the second clasp. Rumpelstiltskin watches carefully and says nothing.

Her left hand starts moving in slow circles along his thigh as she reaches for the bottom clasp, but Rumpelstiltskin closes his own hand over hers before she can undo it.

"Together," he says, and lifts her right hand to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist. He smiles against her skin at her sharp intake of breath, the prize he'd been seeking, and very slowly lets her hand slip from his.

Together, they reach down to release the final gryphon. There's some fumbling involved, because neither of them is concentrating on the task at hand. Instead, they're watching each other. Eventually, the clasp comes free, and Rumpelstiltskin's waistcoat is left hanging open. It slips off his shoulders easily and he tosses it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes at the end of the bed.

"These clothes are easier to get off you than most of the ones you used to wear in the Dark Castle," Belle observes. Her hand has returned to stroking his thigh. Her fingertips press into the leather of his breeches just firmly enough that it pulls back and forth, ever so slightly, with each movement of her hand. Ever so slightly, but more than enough.

Rumpelstiltskin swallows hard. "So did you think about my clothes very much when we were living in the Dark Castle?" he asks, proud that his voice doesn't waver, even though it sounds deeper and rougher than usual. 

Belle grins and bites her lip, as though she's been caught out in a minor transgression, but, "I think we should deal with your shirt next," is what she says.

"All right," he agrees, and lets out a long breath as her hand moves higher and Belle runs her pinky finger along the crease where hip meets thigh. She regards him him from beneath her lashes, smiling. It's not a saucy smile, not exactly, but _knowing_.

She was an innocent when he took her away to the Dark Castle with him, but she's never been ignorant. Ignorance is the antithesis of his Belle. She always wants to _know_ , to understand. Now that she's added some experience to the book knowledge she had before, she understands this – understands _him_ – to a degree that would be frightening in anyone other than Belle. Instead, it just makes him love her more. But then, everything about her has that effect. He thinks it's impossible to love her more than he already does, and then… he does. 

The shirt he's wearing is not a button-down shirt like the ones that he favours in Storybrooke, which is probably for the best. Rumpelstiltskin can only imagine the state he might be in by the time Belle could work her way through a full row of shirt buttons in her current mood. Like his waistcoat, this shirt has only three fastenings, hidden under the placket at the neck that reminds Rumpelstiltskin a little of the smock-shirts of his youth, albeit much finer in both style and fabric.

Belle removes her hand from his thigh, swiftly and with no warning. Rumpelstiltskin isn't sure whether to protest or heave a sigh of relief. As it turns out, he doesn't have the opportunity to do either, because a moment later Belle's hands are gripping his shoulders and then she swings a leg across him and…

Belle grins as if she's been caught out in a major transgression this time, and doesn't regret it. She grins from so close-up that he really can't see anything else. They're almost nose to nose, and, while she's still – technically – kneeling on the bed, she's also straddling his lap.

"I needed to get closer to do your shirt," she says.

"And you need both hands for that?" he asks as he wraps his arms around her, arms going to her back to hold her steady. And yes, he knows he's asking for trouble – well, for something – with a question like that, but he still gasps, closing his eyes against the keen shock of it, when her hand snakes down between them and finds the bulge in his leather breeches that she's been not touching and not touching and _not touching_ for what feels like halfway to eternity.

"Yes," she says, and cups his cock through the leather.

He's hard – he was already halfway there even before she started teasing him. It never takes much. All she needs to do is look at him, sometimes, and he jumps to attention. And as for when she touches him with intent… He closes his eyes and pushes up against her palm. She squeezes him gently, moving her hand in a steady rhythm as she explores his shape, trying to find the length of him despite the constraints of the leather.

"Yes," she says again.

"What?" asks Rumpelstiltskin, opening his eyes to look at her in confusion.

"Yes, I need both hands to unbutton your shirt," Belle says, and lifts both hands to do exactly that.

Rumpelstiltskin swallows back a moan – definitely a moan and not a whimper – and lets his hands slip down to her backside. He wants to bridge the tiny gap and pull her right up against him, feel the wet heat of her against his cock, a thousand times better than even her hand caressing him through his leathers.

"Wait," Belle says, because she knows – of course she knows – just what's on his mind. "There's only two more fastenings to go."

Rumpelstiltskin groans, steeling himself to wait and be patient, but his groan quickly turns into a moan when, instead of doing anything at all to his shirt, Belle lifts up on her knees and then lowers herself back down, settling right where he wants her, save that there's the thin barrier of leather and the even thinner barrier of her tights denying them the rest.

She's never done anything quite like that before.

"I missed you," she whispers against his ear, and starts to rock back and forth in a steady rhythm that makes him arch up to meet her with each fresh swing of her hips. She's going to drive him out of his mind. She truly is.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes. "I can't, I don't-" The rest of the words, whatever they might have been, are lost against her skin as he presses desperate kisses along the line of her jaw until he finds her mouth. Now she's the one to make a breathy little moan, and he matches her rhythm as she lifts and falls against him, once, twice… He gives up trying to count.

It can't continue like this. They're going to drive each other mad with want if they keep this up much longer. He half leans, half falls back against the mattress, bringing her with him so she's sprawled half beside him, half on top of him. He doesn't want to break the kiss, but the position is awkward, no matter how passionate or romantic the getting there was, and they can't help but stop kissing at least for a few seconds while Belle repositions herself, straddling him again a bit further down towards his knees.

Her hand cups his cock again, but only for a moment. It's more a promise than a serious touch this time.

She looks up at him, and there's no amusement in her eyes, no mischief left. Clearly, she has tired of the game, too.

"I love you," she says. It's not so much a declaration as a simple statement of fact. After all his centuries of using words as weapons, Rumpelstiltskin knows the difference better than anybody.

"And I love you," he tells her. It isn't a declaration either.

They share a long, soft look. Then Belle starts unbuckling his belt. It, at least, presents no difficulties, and she moves on to lacings of his breeches. He reaches down to help her with those. It's an ordinary enough task – well, in some ways – but he's acutely conscious of her hands on him, and every brush of her fingers feels electric against his skin. 

Rumpelstiltskin sighs in relief when at last his cock is freed from its constraints. However, he's suddenly, terribly aware that he must present quite a ridiculous sight lying here like this, half out of his shirt and with his leather breeches pulled down around his thighs while his hard cock waves in the air. Plus, he's still wearing his boots.

Thoroughly ridiculous, and meanwhile Belle is sitting there, beautiful, unaccountably still in love with him, and close to fully dressed.

She leans down and kisses the side of his cock. Just once, her lips soft and a trifle unsure, and then her mouth is gone again. 

She's never done that before, either. 

Rumpelstiltskin closes his eyes and concentrates on trying to breathe. Whatever it is he's feeling now, 'ridiculous' isn't part of it. 

He opens his eyes to find her looking at him gravely.

"Let me make love to you?" he says, and the words are as much a surprise to him as to her. He still wants her desperately, but somehow the urgency has gone out of the situation.

Her serious expression turns into a smile. "You don't have to ask," she says.

"No," he agrees. "Lie down."

Belle huffs a laugh at that, but she climbs off Rumpelstiltskin and lies down beside him on top of the covers. He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at her, stopping to cup one side of her face with his free hand and stroke his fingers across her cheek, exploring the contours of her face because… well, because he can't _not_ touch her when she looks at him like that.

Then he begins in earnest. He scatters quick, playful little kisses here and there down her neck and along her collarbone, making her giggle – until his hand starts up a counterpoint in long, deliberate strokes from her shoulder down to the soft swell of her breast. His fingertips touch the scooped neckline of her top with each downward movement, but he makes sure his hand doesn't stray any further. Not until she sighs out a long breath and shifts against the mattress.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles, and lets the long strokes turn into light, teasing spirals, two fingertips gliding in parallel over silky soft skin, circling a little further down each time, insinuating themselves little by little under the edge of Belle's top. His hand goes still when his fingers touch the lace of her bra. He smiles again at the small sound of disappointment that escapes Belle's lips then.

"Don't stop," she says, and yes, that's not just disappointment but protest he can hear.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't reply but instead traces the line of her bra cup down to the middle point of her chest, where his fingers find the clasp. He's thankful she chose to wear a front-loading bra today – though perhaps that wasn't entirely by chance. He can't help wondering if she's been wearing bras like this every day that he's been away, just in case that day might turn out to be the day that he comes back. 

He swallows hard, and applies himself to the task of undoing the clasp. After a moment's fumbling, he hears a soft click, and then the bra comes loose in his hand. He pushes the two pieces of the bra aside, stopping to cup and squeeze Belle's breasts in a way that leaves them both breathing more heavily.

He forces himself to move his hands back up to pat Belle's top back into place. The soft grey fabric and modest neckline almost give an impression of primness – if you ignore the two peaks of her nipples pushing up like little pebbles underneath.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't intend to ignore them. 

He pushes up Belle's top, baring the pale expanse of skin from her waist to just below her breasts. Belle shivers, and gives another little wriggle, but she doesn't protest. She just sighs, and closes her eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin takes that as encouragement, and starts tracing circles on the newly exposed skin. He uses his thumbs this time, his movements firmer and faster than before: less of a tease and more of a promise. It doesn't take long to reach Belle's breasts. He takes them in his hands and lets out a long sigh of appreciation – they're both perfect, and the perfect handful – as his thumbs move in ever decreasing circles around her nipples. He changes tactics when he reaches his target, raking his thumbnails back and forth across the nipples a couple of times. He's rewarded with a soft gasp that turns into something louder, something more like a proper cry, when he presses his thumb pads down hard in the centre and holds them there. He glances up and finds her watching him, then, through eyes gone dark and dreamy with arousal. She's breathing heavily, her lips flushed a deeper pink than usual and parted slightly. 

"Don't stop," she says again. She doesn't sound disappointed this time.

Of course he has to kiss her, one hand still caressing her breast as he leans up to catch her mouth with his. She kisses him back, soft but firm, demanding but pliant, and wholly, unmistakably Belle. It can be nothing else. It's so good that he stops thinking about it, the mind giving way to the demands of the body. 

When at last he lifts his head again, he finds Belle's fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of his neck. His own hand is still at her breast. Neither of them likes to let go. Given their history together, that shouldn't really be a surprise.

He reaches up to disentangle her fingers from his hair. "You told me not to stop," he reminds her before she can voice the reluctance that he can read clearly in her eyes.

"I did," she admits, but it's several more moments before she releases her hold on him.

He returns his attention to her breasts, pushing her top up the rest of the way to reveal them fully. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect: superlatives that are all so overused that they've become hackneyed and trite, but accurate nevertheless. He rolls Belle's nipples between thumb and forefinger as his other fingers splay out across soft, rounded flesh, squeezing gently as they take up the rhythm.

Belle's panting now, short little breaths that hitch in the back of her throat every time his fingers tug gently at her nipple. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect – and he's not looking at her breasts this time. 

For a few moments, anyway.

Rumpelstiltskin leans down to replace his hand with his mouth, tugging at the nipple with lips and the hint of teeth before laving it with his tongue and-

He gasps against her skin, tenses, and it's all he can do to stop himself from crying out. Belle's hand is on his cock, holding it in a loose clasp as she slips up and down the length of him. He lies there, very still, trying to get himself under control. He succeeds, almost. But then Belle's grip on him tightens, just a little, right before her thumb strokes up and over the head of his cock and Rumpelstiltskin is moaning and pushing up against her palm before he has a chance to think about what he's doing, much less think better of it.

He wants to keep playing with her breasts, even as he arches helplessly into her hand. He wants to make his way down her body with lips and tongue, leaving open-mouthed kisses against her skin. He wants to explore every bit of her, taste the very core of her, feel her swell and throb against his tongue.

But he does none of that. Not today. Not when Belle whispers, "Please," and "Stop," into his hair. Not when she adds, "I need you. Now."

He slides down the bed so fast that he almost tumbles over the edge onto the floor, awkward in his haste to search for the zipper in her skirt. She finds it for him, twisted around to her side rather than at the back where it's supposed to be. He makes short work of the skirt, while Belle pulls her top off the rest of the way and discards her bra. 

Belle lies back, wearing nothing but her tights and underwear, and the delicate gold jewellery, all gifts from him, at neck and wrist and in her ears. Her hair's a mess, spread out behind her on the pillow, her lips kiss-swollen and make-up smudged where it isn't gone completely. The black tights make a striking contrast with the paleness of her breasts, her skin flushing a hectic pink further up. She's beautiful, in a way far removed from the shallow, artful prettiness that passes for beauty too often in all the worlds he's known. The picture she presents deserves to be captured and celebrated in a work of art, but, selfishly, he's glad that no one else will ever get to see precisely what he's seeing right now. This is for the two of them, and them alone.

"Please," Belle says, and starts wriggling out of her tights.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't need to be asked again. They get her out of the tights in record time. He struggles out of his shirt, but that's as far as he gets before Belle pulls him down on top of her. He winds up propped on his elbows above her, leather breeches somewhere down around his knees. And he's still wearing his boots.

He reaches down and slides two fingers between her inner folds, opening her up to his touch. She's not as wet as he was expecting – but one look into her eyes tells him that she won't appreciate being asked if she's sure she wants to do this now. Belle knows what she wants. He's never going to get over the wonder that what she wants, unmistakably and above everything else, is him.

He takes his cock in hand and moves between her legs.

"Help me?" he asks, and Belle smiles up at him, recognising the echo of his question from before.

"Of course," she says, and then her hand's there, guiding him forward as she tilts her hips up to meet him and her legs wrap around him, holding him close. It's easier to brace himself this time than when they've done this before, to seek and find the right angle and devote all of his attention to Belle, now that his leg isn't giving him pain. 

The head of his cock pushes up against her inner lips with the first try, too high up, but it only takes a little nudge to line their bodies up just right, and then he's pressing into her, slowly, so slowly, determined not to move too hard or too fast, coming home to her at last. Belle cants her hips a little higher, and then she's clenching around him, taking what she wants, refusing to be denied, and it's more than he can stand. He groans, and thrusts in hard, sinking into the warm, wet welcome of her. He wants to stay where he is forever; he wants to keep moving in her and never stop. Most of all, he wants to hear her sounds of pleasure, to see the moment that it takes her, and to know that it's all because of him.

Rumpelstiltskin hauls himself up on his hands, and pulls right back until he's almost out of her, the head of his cock pushing up against _that_ spot, the one that makes her clench and tremble, hands clutching at his arse as she tries to draw him all the way back in.

They both gasp at the second thrust and it's all Rumpelstiltskin can do not to keep going. Instead, he holds himself perfectly still for a moment, collecting himself as best he can, and then he reaches down between them. The first brush of his fingers against her clitoris makes Belle's eyes fly open. The second brush of his fingers makes her shudder and clench around his cock. He leans down to kiss her then, a wet, messy kiss that's all lips and tongue with an edge of mutual desperation.

He drags his mouth away from hers and returns his attention to her clitoris, pushing down on the hood with his forefinger and starting up a circular motion. Belle's head falls back against the pillow and she moans a deep, breathy moan. When her hips start moving against the actions of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin doesn't try to resist, meeting her thrust for thrust. It's hard to focus on anything but his body's crying need to come, but he makes himself concentrate on keeping his hand moving, faster and harder now, matching the rhythm of her hips – and then he doesn't have to. Belle tenses, all of her tenses, from the fingers suddenly digging into his back to her inner walls tight around his cock, as she lets out a low cry that goes on and on. And as for the expression on her face… Rumpelstiltskin could watch that forever. She looks abandoned, transported, lost to everything but her climax. As he continues to watch, she finally goes quiet, panting hard as her orgasm slowly lets her go. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at him. This time her smile is like the sun coming out, brilliant and luminous. She reaches up to push a lock of his hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"Don't stop," she says, and twists her hips up in a way that makes Rumpelstiltskin cry out in turn. She's gripping him tight, urging him on, and it's no accident, either. There's a wicked light in her eyes as she rocks her hips up to meet him, faster than before, setting the rhythm, and he's powerless to do anything but try to catch her up.

It catches him instead, and stops him in his tracks.

"Oh," he gasps, and then he cries out in earnest as Belle clenches around his cock, moving against him urgently, wringing the rest of it out of him, a physical joy so intense that it's a sliver away from pain.

He collapses on top of her, heart still racing as he buries his face in her hair. Right now, he doesn't want to move ever again, but he raises himself up on his elbows, just enough to spare her the bulk of his weight. Belle's hand comes up to stroke his hair, soothing as only she can be, and it's enough. More than enough.

Eventually, his cock slips out of her, and Rumpelstiltskin reluctantly rolls over onto his back. Belle follows him, fitting herself against his side, her hand stroking idly along his arm, and then straying further down.

"I'm afraid he's not going to wake up again for a while. You wore him right out," Rumpelstiltskin tells her as she takes his cock in her hand, her touch gentle and curious.

"Oh, I didn't! I mean, I wasn't… Not now, I mean. I was just… thinking." 

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't need to turn his head and look at her to know that she's blushing. It's delightful, given the enthusiasm and distinct lack of blushes with which she threw herself into everything else they've just been doing.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks, toying idly with a lock of her hair. 

"About something I found out just now," she replies.

Rumpelstiltskin raises his head from the pillow and looks at her then. "And what was it that you found out?" he asks.

"You go commando. Under the leather," she adds, indicating his breeches, now bunched down near his ankles, in case there can be any doubt. "I've always wondered."

"Well, there's hardly room for anything else under there," he quips, trying not to think too hard about all the times they took tea together in the Dark Castle, all the times they talked together while he spun straw into gold at his wheel, and all the while that particular question was going through her mind. He doesn't succeed. "You could have just asked," he points out.

"I could," Belle agrees, "but where's the fun in that? Besides I think I like you better in the suits from this world. They're definitely easier to get off you." She flashes him a little grin.

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her. "Much as I'd rather stay here with you, I really should get dressed in one of those suits. Someone's bound to come bursting in through the door before too long with a problem that they're sure only I can fix." He sighs at that, a trifle theatrically, but Belle looks over towards the door sharply, as if expecting half the town to come trooping in at any second. "Or they will, at least, once I remove the locking charm from the front door," Rumpelstiltskin adds, stroking her cheek in a silent apology for having startled her.

He gets up and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, enveloping himself in the familiar purple of his magic. When it clears, he's left standing in one of Mr Gold's suits, fully dressed save for his jacket and tie.

Belle's watching him from the bed, still naked but sitting up with her legs folded under her now. 

"Thinking it would have been quicker to change out of my other clothes this way?" he asks.

"Quicker, but I never would have found out what you wear – don't wear – underneath if you'd done that."

"Very true," Rumpelstiltskin agrees. "May I be of assistance?" he asks, indicating her clothes, scattered here and there on the floor.

"There's no need," Belle says, scrambling for her underwear and tights. "It won't take me long."

And she's as true as her word. It doesn't take her long at all. Rumpelstiltskin watches with something like regret as Belle retrieves her clothes and quickly dresses, bare skin disappearing from sight at an impressive speed. It's not that he wants to keep her nude for his viewing pleasure, as though she's just some _thing_ , never that, and nor does he wish for her ever to feel uncomfortable or cold. He just misses her, misses knowing the whole of her, when they have to go out to face the world.

Once she's finished dressing, Belle checks that everything's as it should be, smooths down her skirt, and comes to stand before him. She looks almost as she did when they first arrived back at the shop, save for one thing. Rumpelstiltskin runs a hand over her hair, turning her tousled curls into smooth, shining tresses. Belle's hand goes to her hair – of course she felt the tingle of his magic at work.

"Just helping you with the finishing touch," Rumpelstiltskin says quickly. "And now perhaps you'll be kind enough to help me with my finishing touch in return," he adds, holding up one of Mr Gold's myriad of quietly elegant neckties.

Belle smiles. "Of course," she says, taking the tie from him and looping it around the back of his neck. She pulls him close with the two ends of it, and kisses him softly. "I like your ties," she says, as though confessing a great and possibly shameful secret, and then she gets to work. She's surprisingly adept at the task, and Rumpelstiltskin can't help but wonder if she's been reading up on neckties while he's been away – and, apparently, on other topics as well, since she's picked up terms like "going commando" from somewhere. He sincerely hopes that that one is from a book and not from too many conversations with Snow White's dwarfs.

He watches as Belle puts the finishing touches on what looks to be quite a creditable Windsor knot and pats it into place. "There. Perfect," she says.

"Thank you," Rumpelstiltskin says, smiling down at her. He feels as if he's smiled more today than he has in, well, _ever_.

"You're welcome," Belle says, smiling in turn. This time it's a proud smile. Proud of herself, and proud of him. She gives a little half-laugh, as though she can't quite believe that they've made it all the way to here and now. Rumpelstiltskin knows just how that feels. "So…what now?" she asks. Her hands are on his shoulders, touching him again. Possibly she'll never stop touching him, ever. Rumpelstiltskin can't bring himself to mind.

"Well, that's a question I haven't had to ask myself," he admits, taking her hands in his. "I didn't think I had a future."

"But you do," Belle says. "The boy wasn't your undoing, and neither was Pan, so now you can stop worrying about prophecies and start thinking about your future. There's endless possibilities, countless paths to take." She smiles again, genuinely happy for him to explore those possibilities, to seek and, perhaps, to find, for no other reason than that he wants it.

There's no one else like her. No one.

"But there's only one of those paths I'm interested in," he says gently.

"Which one's that?" She sounds hopeful, but Rumpelstiltskin can tell she's not entirely certain of what his answer is going to be. After everything they've been through, right up to this last week when he chose what he felt he had to do over what he wanted to do, he can't blame her for that.

"The one where you and I are together," he says, taking her face in his hands and drawing her in for a kiss that's as much promise as passion. He won't leave room for doubt between them again. He _won't_.

Belle is the one to end the kiss. She pulls back slightly, her fingers still tangled in his hair. "I… I wanted to tell you something. Well, _ask_ you something really." She looks away. "I was going to wait until tonight, but, well…"

Rumpelstiltskin can feel the sudden tension in her and he can't stop his own panic from rising in response. "Belle? What is it?"

"It's nothing. Forget I said anything," she says, shaking her head and taking a step away from him.

He follows her, dread taking hold of him. "It's clearly something. Look at me, Belle. Please! And tell me." He should have expected this. He should have known. He should have known better than to think that all of this unleavened happiness could last. Of course there would be a sting in the tail.

She does look at him at last, and manages a slightly tremulous smile. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how to say this. I never expected to be in this position."

"Just say it," he says, taking her hands in his again. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Together."

"I- All right, then."

He waits, willing his heart to stop hammering against his chest.

Belle clears her throat. "Rumpelstiltskin, will you marry me?" She looks into his eyes, nervous but unflinching – and awaiting his reply.

"What?" says Rumpelstiltskin, blinking and wondering if he's heard correctly.

"I… I want that future where you and I are together, more than anything," she explains. "And I want us to belong to each other, so no one can have any doubt about it – especially you and me. So… will you marry me, Rumpelstiltskin? Please?" She swallows hard, her hands clutching hard at his as she waits for his response.

Rumpelstiltskin just looks at her for a moment. He doesn't have a clue how he came to deserve her. He doesn't deserve her, and yet she's his. Only a moment ago he promised himself that he'd never leave room for her to doubt, and now here's his chance to prove it. There can only be one answer, but his eyes are wet, and he has to blink away a tear before he has a chance of actually saying it. "You don't have to say 'please'. There's nothing I wish for more," he says. "Of course I'll marry you, if you'll have me. If you're sure."

Belle smiles, though her lower lip is trembling so much that she doesn't seem able to say anything right now, and she's blinking away some tears of her own. It's easiest just to take her in his arms, to wrap himself around her as she twines her arms about his neck. Their lips meet in a kiss that makes up for the lack of adequate words. 

"So, should I expect a ring?" Rumpelstiltskin wants to know when at last the kiss ends.

"A wedding ring," Belle says, and that's as far as she gets before she stops and smiles.

Rumpelstiltskin has no choice but to smile back at her. A wedding ring. A wedding. A marriage. All things he's never dared let himself hope for. A future.

"The engagement ring should, perhaps, be a little more traditional than the engagement," Rumpelstiltskin muses, or pretends to. "And worn by the bride-to-be rather than the groom, I think."

"You've got something in mind," Belle says, biting her lip against a little laugh. 

"Perhaps," Rumpelstiltskin says, but he holds out his hand, palm up, and a midnight blue ring box appears in a swirl of purple smoke. He flicks the catch open with a practised twist of his thumb. A ring nestles inside. "What do you think?" he asks, and hands the box to her.

Belle takes out the ring and holds it up to the light, where the different stones in the setting sparkle and glow. It's an old ring, with the gemstones set in claws, all in a row. "I've never seen a ring quite like this before," she says. She fingers the stones thoughtfully. "That's a ruby at the far left, then an emerald and another red stone, not a ruby...A garnet?" She stops then, and looks up at him, realisation dawning in her eyes. "The next one's an amethyst."

"Followed by another ruby and a diamond, yes," Rumpelstiltskin says, curiously proud that she knows what it is she's looking at.

"I've read about rings like this, but I've never seen one," Belle exclaims. "It's a Regard Ring, isn't it? The first initials of each stone in the setting spell out _regard_." 

"Indeed," Rumpelstiltskin says, "but it's not quite right just yet."

"It isn't?" Belle says, looking ready to snatch both box and ring away.

Rumpelstiltskin considers the heavy Victorian setting and the red gold band with a critical eye. "It needs the personal touch," he says, and stretches out his hand.

The swirl of purple magic is less dense than before and dissipates quicker this time.

"Oh!" says Belle. 

The ring lying in her palm is the same ring, and yet not. The same six stones are set into it in the same order, but they're arranged in a sinuous channel that curls around the edges of the band rather than the plain row of prongs that was there before. And the band itself is brighter and yellower, purer gold than in the original. Rumpelstiltskin's gold.

"Would you like to have this ring?" he asks, and swallows quickly, as nervous as if he's asking the question that Belle just asked. And maybe he is asking it, in his turn.

Belle bites her lip, and for a moment Rumpelstiltskin is sure that she's going to say no, that she wants the other ring back – or, possibly, that she's made a mistake and she'd rather not have any sort of ring at all.

"Yes," says Belle. "I'd love to have this ring." She holds it out to him. "Put it on for me. Please?"

Rumpelstiltskin does her bidding with a very slightly trembling hand. The ring slides on easily, as if it were made for her finger – as, of course, it was. 

And then she's in his arms again and everything's all right. Everything's perfect. Life doesn't get any better than this.

Rumpelstiltskin leans his head against Belle's hair and tries to ignore the thought, tries to ignore the little voice inside his head that's telling him that this much happiness simply can't last. The universe won't allow it. He's a villain and he doesn't get to have his happy ending.

But then Belle looks up at him, her eyes shining with happiness, everything that a villain is not. She deserves her happy ending, and perhaps that will be enough.

Perhaps.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Nym for a speedy and thorough beta.


End file.
